


Honey Toast

by GalaxyAqua



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Virtual Reality, Bad Flirting, Day Out, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Flirting, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 06:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17320178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyAqua/pseuds/GalaxyAqua
Summary: “Pretty, isn’t it?” Akamatsu grins, lacing their fingers together. The wind teases strands of hair from her careful bun, but Harukawa thinks it only makes her look happier.“It’s… beautiful.” Harukawa agrees. “It really is.”





	Honey Toast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mystic_Diamond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystic_Diamond/gifts).



> afhasf @Mystic_Diamond I know you said tojo/iruma OR kaemaki, but I wrote both because I have no self-control. here you go, have a nice day! ily <3 <3

Three years after exiting the _V3_ simulation, Harukawa finds that she doesn’t think about death anymore.

At least, it flits across her mind considerably less frequent than it used to, and if that’s any consolation, it’s enough.

Naturally, maybe, she ponders it in passing, as most people are wont to do, but she wholeheartedly embraces the art of moving on from it. Even with the littlest of things — tending to a vase of fresh flowers whenever she can, managing a whole plate of breakfast some mornings, cleaning the countertops to busy her hands — Harukawa is living as more than she was made to live, and she wants to. She looks out between the blinds that are angled to let light in, and wants to live.

That’s pivotal.

Death as a concept is tiring, she believes, and not because she was drained of the emotion to feel for it — not because back in the simulation, she was a tool for destruction, a killing machine, not a human being but a device to be manipulated and used.

Being reared as an assassin in a fictional world leaves scars that Harukawa doesn’t dwell on these days, because death as a concept is exhausting (tiring, overdone, it’s been three years but it feels like fifty three, that number she will never forget) and thinking about it leaves her feeling hollow so she doesn’t. Think about it.

The occasional nightmares don’t count, she reasons, for she could never truly be free from the implanted memories, but they’re bearable now. She can avoid them by simply not sleeping those nights. In its own way, that tactic works just fine.

Though sacrificing sleep on bad nights has become a bit of a routine, it gets worse around this time of year. If she’s to be perfectly honest, she considers it a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things.

Akamatsu had roped Momota and Saihara in to paint their ceiling with an array of stars, interspersed with the ones that glowed so that even in the dark, Harukawa would always see them gleam. Of course, the boys — it’s strange, she can’t call them men, just like she can’t call herself a woman, only a girl, like she never quite grew up — decided they had to one-up Akamatsu and add in rockets and rainbows (Momota) and lavender planets (Saihara) and Harukawa had grilled them all for how unnecessary it all was, even though she had closed the day off by laughing softly.

“The night sky does not nearly have that many garish colors,” She had said, and Momota squawked indignantly to defend his rainbow. She squinted up at it and resisted the urge to ask why it was wearing rain boots.

Akamatsu has paused at the remark on colors, brush still against the very round unicorn she had been doodling in the far corner of the room.

“Creative license,” she huffed. “So you can dream about wonderful things! So you can sleep tight, my love.”

Yet when it comes down to it, sleep is still what Harukawa chooses to sacrifice first, small sacrifice as it is.

Sometimes, Harukawa gets caught up in making sacrifices, because that’s all her life has ever been — sacrificing her innocence, sacrificing her morals, sacrificing herself — but Akamatsu is steadily teaching her to unwind from that.

Certainly, the world can be rotten at times, but there are things that make it all worth it. Beautiful, unexplainable things.

“Nobody will ever know,” Akamatsu had whispered before they had drifted off one night. “That it took years of violence and years and years of pain just to come out the other side much gentler. You think courage is hard, but sometimes being kind in this world is harder.”

“Yet people mistake it for weakness all the time,” Harukawa had whispered back.

“People do,” Akamatsu sighed. “They see what they want. But we are not what people mistake us to be. Now go to sleep, it’s getting late.”

She doesn’t.

Small sacrifice.

Truthfully, it is also a sacrifice that her girlfriend highly disapproves of and gets fussy about, but Akamatsu also knows that Harukawa’s issues are her own to face and all she can do is hold her through it.

Even when Harukawa insists she’s fine with it, Akamatsu will still point out the little tin of ‘Sleep Tight’ tea perched on the counter, and she will still offer to hum for her until she falls asleep.

Harukawa does not take her up on the offer, however, she knows Akamatsu means well and Harukawa finds that the nights she sleeps the most soundly are the nights she spends in Akamatsu’s arms, cradled in her warmth and the scent of her orchid shampoo.

Nights that lead to mornings like these, where she kisses Akamatsu gently awake — it’s always much easier to be affectionate when Akamatsu’s half-asleep and not quick enough to tease her for it — and the blonde smiles against her lips, pulling her in closer.

“Morning, princess,” Akamatsu slurs, still in a sleepy haze. “I missed you.”

“While you were sleeping? I doubt it.”

“It’s too early to be getting smart with me,” She beams softly anyway, ever more gorgeous and golden in the early light. She is beautiful when Harukawa least expects her to be, and it’s almost unfair how easily she switches from being sprawled out with her limbs every which way, to being composed and sure of herself.

Harukawa absentmindedly reaches forward to adjust the collar of her t-shirt, tugging it modestly over the strap of Akamatsu’s bra top peeking out. Akamatsu grins but doesn’t say anything about it.

“What time is it?” She asks, resting a light hand on Harukawa’s cheek. “Do we have places to be?”

“It’s 6am, and not really,” Harukawa shrugs, subconsciously reaching to pull on a ponytail that isn’t there anymore. She had her hair cut last week after being recognized on the train — she doesn’t need any more _Danganronpa_ in her life. Her hand falls to rest on her girlfriend’s cheek instead, mirroring her light, supportive affection. “Besides, you told me to wake you up early, so shouldn’t you be answering that question?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Akamatsu shoots up suddenly, wildly, and Harukawa rolls over, startled.

“Hey, what’s the big deal?” She starts to grumble, but the blonde is already leaning back down and apologetically kissing her on the forehead.

“Sorry, Maki, got a little excited there,” she giggles. “It’s just that, I found this really cool place that I want to show you, and I know you’re gonna love it.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you. Maybe I’ll hate it. You never know.”

“ _Maki!_ ” Akamatsu cries indignantly.

“I’m just kidding,” Harukawa replies, unable to resist letting out a laugh of her own as Akamatsu shoves her face into her chest and huffs. “You are such a child sometimes, Kaede,” she tells her. “I love you.”

Akamatsu’s whole face goes red impressively quickly. “And you’re so honest in the mornings. That’s hot.” She rises from Harukawa’s chest to peck her on the nose before landing back onto her pillow with a thump. “I love you too. But you’re being mean right now and as tempting as it is to just stay in bed with you all day, I’m going to get up and you’re going to get dressed, okay?”

“Okay.”

Neither of them make a move.

“Maki,” Akamatsu groans, smacking her in the arm. “We have to get up.”

“You get up, then.” She says helpfully.

“I’ll get up if you get up!”

“That’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

Harukawa curls back into the covers to make a point. “I’ve just decided that I’m not going anywhere today. Goodnight.”

Playfully, Akamatsu smacks her again. “Maki! Come on!”

“Goodnight, Kaede. You’re annoying.”

“Nooo, not goodnight, you just woke up, Maki, please,” Akamatsu’s arms come to snake around her waist and soon she finds herself tucked snugly under her girlfriend’s chin. “Let’s go. We have to be up and at ‘em! Ready to seize the day!”

Harukawa rolls her eyes, nuzzling quickly against her neck before slipping out of her embrace to avoid the inevitable cooing in her general direction. Akamatsu always loves to play it up whenever possible.

“Fine. Only to make you shut up.” She sighs. She tucks her cropped hair over her ear. “Anything you need me to wear for it?”

“Mmgh?” Akamatsu says quizzically.

“I don’t know where we’re going,” Harukawa tells her, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “If it’s a cave or something, I figured I needed to be prepared.”

Akamatsu snorts, coming back to an upright position and crossing her legs. “Why would I take you on a cave date, babe?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Wow! I would never!” Akamatsu gasps in mock offense. “I am the master of romance! Now, there’s nothing wrong with a little caveman sexytime, but anyway, just wear something casual,” she brings her palms to her chest. “Not that anything you wear would look bad on you anyway. You’re cute as hell and I love you a lot. Like, a very big amount. Just in case you didn’t know.”

“Shut up, master of romance,” Harukawa says, throwing a stray jacket at her face. “I love you too but only when you’re not talking.”

“I am _wounded_ ,” Akamatsu replies all matter-of-factly. “I have the voice of a siren and you know it.”

“Sure,” Harukawa answers drily, plucking a coat hanger from the closet. “And I’m a lesbian pirate lost at sea. Your siren voice means nothing to me.”

“Oh, you better be, because I’m an exclusive lesbian siren that targets lesbian pirates only,” Akamatsu grins over the jacket now in her possession. “Consider yourself charmed, my good Captain.”

“Never call me that again.”

“But first mate or boatswain isn’t as romantic,” she whines. “And I don’t know any other pirate positions.”

“Nothing about pirates is romantic. They pillage and plunder and steal from people.”

“That’s exactly how you stole my heart,” Akamatsu teases and narrowly avoids getting hit by a flying shirt. “See! I’m being attacked!” She exclaims exuberantly, “Does this not look like pillaging and plundering to you?!”

“No,” Harukawa deadpans, determined not to give into her girlfriend’s ridiculous antics today. Draping her clean clothing over her arm, she starts walking away. “Now, I’m going to get changed in the bathroom and you better be ready when I get back.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n!” Akamatsu cheers.

“I hate you,” Harukawa mutters, cheeks warm.

 

* * *

 

When she’s patting down her blouse, Harukawa takes a moment to stare in the mirror and just absorb the image of the person she’s become.

It was hard when _Danganronpa_ was at its high, when her face was plastered constantly on everything and she couldn’t escape it — Harukawa Maki, the assassin that shouldn’t have survived. There were so many other, preferable options, and she had agreed.

Of course, they had all technically survived, but an audience obsessed with fiction believed only in the fictional aspect for the longest time. They had been relentless, treating them like they weren’t even human. She would most often be told that she should have gone instead of Ouma, or instead of Momota, and later Ouma would just laugh at her and Momota would simply frown and tell her to stop letting it get to her head.

Now, Harukawa doesn’t care.

Whether she survived in _Danganronpa_ or not, the whole experience is something she’d much rather leave behind, and if it means cutting her hair and wearing daintier clothes, then so be it.

She is not the same person, anymore.

She brushes her teeth and washes her face, before sliding a rose barrette into her hair and adjusting her skirt and tights. Once deeming herself presentable, she sweeps back out of the bathroom with her sleeping clothes and dumps them in the laundry, before returning to the bedroom to come face-to-face with a pondering Akamatsu stripped down to her underwear.

“Kaede,” she grouses, and to Akamatsu’s credit, she looks genuinely surprised to see Harukawa back so soon.

“I’m just deciding what to wear!”

“Why did you take off all your clothes to decide,” Harukawa asks exasperatedly. She reaches for her ponytail again, only to find it isn’t there, again. She opts for crossing her arms and looking stern instead.

“Because I need to take clothes _off_ to put clothes _on_ ,” Akamatsu replies, not the slightest bit embarrassed. “But now that you’re here, you can enjoy the show if you like.”

Harukawa flushes pink, suddenly hyper aware that she had stormed in on Akamatsu changing and quickly hightails it out of the room.

“I wouldn’t mind!” Akamatsu calls after her.

“Shut up!” Harukawa yells back. She angrily sets to making breakfast to banish the thought, and when Akamatsu finally emerges in a pretty floral sundress with her hair pinned up, Harukawa is floored.

“Hey, beautiful,” Akamatsu winks, sashaying into the kitchen to grab a plate.

“... shut up and eat already.” Harukawa says, quieter than before. Her face feels like it’s burning.

 

* * *

 

They take the train while it’s still relatively early — just on the cusp of rush hour — and despite the growing morning crowds, Akamatsu pulls Harukawa closer by the hand, and manoeuvres her away from any leers or lingering looks they may or may not get.

Harukawa is grateful for the consideration, because she’s never dealt well with people anyway, but luckily, they’re mostly unbothered, save for a couple of high schoolers passing by with a, “Nice cosplay,” remark.

Getting off the train, the crowds grow denser, and Harukawa hears her name being called by another group of teens gathered by the vending machines.

“AkaHaru going strong,” a young girl says as she throws up a peace-sign. Her hair is red, and she’s not quite Yumeno, so Harukawa thinks it might be an inspired look. “I was more into Harukawa and Yumeno, but to each their own.”

“Uh, did you forget that we literally came here as Tenko and Himiko?” Her companion asks, before getting distracted by her phone, pushing straight-cut bangs out of her eyes. “Dammit, this post-canon meet is going to take forever at this rate. Why did you ask that asshole to come as Shuuichi, he’s spamming the chat again with his stupid headcanons.”

“Hey,” the Yumeno cosplayer speaks, ignoring her friend again. “You wanna join our meet? It’s a _Danganronpa V3_ post-canon cosplay event. We’re gonna have food and games. You don’t have to know anyone there, but we’re all very friendly. Our Harukawa cosplayer is super into AkaHaru. Maybe you can be friends.”

“No, thank you.” Akamatsu says, and steers Harukawa off again. Harukawa is grateful for it — she’s never quite sure how to interact with fans of the show as is. Moreover, she’s almost astonished that three years later, people are still talking about them.

She supposed fiction really is immortalizing, and only fears that slightly.

Akamatsu is quick to whisk her away from those thoughts, however, as she leads Harukawa towards a beautiful forest path, its entrance laden with flowers.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon,” Akamatsu reassures her. “As weird as that whole exchange was, it almost makes me nostalgic. Do you feel that?”

Harukawa glances at her curiously. “Were you a cosplayer?”

“Oh, you know, once or twice,” she admits sheepishly. “I was never good at it, but I’ve been there.”

“Who did you cosplay?”

“Maki, please, we don’t bring up a girl’s cosplay phase,” Akamatsu laughs. “I mean, I really admire people who do it well, it just never worked out for me.”

“I hope there are pictures somewhere.”

Akamatsu shoves her lightly. “You better not go looking for them.”

The path breaks off into an open space, where the greenery is free and rampant, and the ground beneath them starts to soften. Ahead of them lies an incredible expanse of glistening blue water, framed by the indigo of mountains further away, bleeding into the shrubs and flourishing plant life.

“It’s a lake.” Harukawa says, unable to disguise her awe as she steps off of the walking trail, steadily making her way towards the shore. The morning sky is reflected on the surface of the water and it’s rich and mystical, picture-perfect down to the peaceful pacing of ducks, swimming playfully back and forth without a care in the world.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Akamatsu grins, lacing their fingers together. The wind teases strands of hair from her careful bun, but Harukawa thinks it only makes her look happier.

“It’s… beautiful.” Harukawa agrees. “It really is.”

“So beautiful,” Akamatsu inhales deeply, then exhales. “The air is clean, the sky is clear, the water is sparkling and my gorgeous girlfriend is smiling. What could be better?”

“I’m not gorgeous nor am I smiling,” Harukawa points out.

“My extremely gorgeous girlfriend _would_ be smiling but she’s stubborn and only smiles at small animals and maybe videos of stupid people falling down the stairs,” Akamatsu amends.

“I only smiled at those videos once.”

“You only smiled because it was Kaito, and he was screaming like he didn’t know what stairs were because he was drunk.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why does the ground cut off there?” Akamatsu imitates in a terrible rendition of Momota’s voice. “Who flattened it? Why is it so well made?”

“True, but he’s an idiot and so are you,” Harukawa can’t resist a tiny smile at the memory. “I can’t believe it. I’m surrounded by morons.”

Akamatsu stops to gaze at her lovingly, and “Oh my god, you have the cutest smile in the world.”

“Shut up.” She puffs out her cheeks, hoping they don’t look as warm as they feel. “You’re annoying.”

“I’ll take that if I can gush over you every day,” Akamatsu sings, swinging their arms between them.

“You’re super annoying.”

“Hey, now that’s uncalled for!”

“It’s what you deserve.”

“I can take ‘annoying’ but ‘super annoying’? That’s going too far.” As she says that, though, Akamatsu is still smiling brightly. “Anyway, to tell you the truth, it took me a while, you know. To find a morning lake shore that would remind me of you.”

Harukawa looks out at the water, entranced by the pleasant calmness it exudes. “This is what you came up with?”

“Yeah,” Akamatsu grins. “And I was right. Even with that bed head, you look so beautiful and peaceful here.”

Harukawa’s hands fly up to smoothen her hair, but not a hair is out of place. She frowns at her girlfriend’s smile.

“I’m just teasing you, you always look perfect. I love you.”

“Stop that.” Harukawa grumbles.

“It’s like as the day progresses, you get grumpier and grumpier,” Akamatsu laughs.

“And you get more and more obnoxious.”

“Only for you.” She grins.

Harukawa can barely fight the urge to grin back. Akamatsu knows her well though, and pecks her quickly on the nose before running off, leaving Harukawa to chase after her.

They play for a while, this impromptu rendition of cat-and-mouse, before Akamatsu skips off down the path again, and after one long lingering look at the lake, Harukawa follows suit.

 

* * *

 

They settle down in a little dessert house situated on the outskirts of the lake for morning tea.

It’s a traditional affair – both of them leaving their shoes at the door and stepping gracefully onto the tatami. The elderly woman that greets them kindly pours them two cups of green tea to start, offering a gentle, “I hope you’re having a lovely morning.”

“We are, thank you,” Akamatsu smiles, and Harukawa peers out the window at the distanced lake, glistening under the sunlight. She doesn’t hear what Akamatsu orders, trusting her girlfriend to make well-informed decisions (despite her better judgement), and only turns back when she hears Akamatsu sigh.

“Hey,” Harukawa says. “This is nice.”

“I am pretty nice,” she grins, unfaltering under Harukawa’s dead-eyed stare.

“Must you twist every word I say to suit your own ideals?”

“Of course not, I just enjoy our fun, lighthearted banter!”

Harukawa can’t help but crack a smile at that, and she can see the victory dance in Akamatsu’s eyes even if the ex-pianist chooses wisely not to wave her limbs wildly around.

They enjoy a light meal of thematically chosen green tea desserts, and Harukawa pays because it’s the least embarrassing way to express her gratitude.

She thinks Akamatsu knows, though, and that’s all that matters.

 

* * *

 

They return to the walking trail to continue around the lake — somehow, Akamatsu senses that she’s not yet ready to leave it behind — and Harukawa is once again awed by the sheer vastness of the body of water and how it dips and curves along.

In a secluded area, she spots a small wooden bridge that arches over the tiniest pool, and to her amazement, there are fish swimming in it. She leans over the railing to watch them, many of them drawn towards her perhaps in anticipation of food, and though it’s childish and out of place, Harukawa forgets herself for a moment and waves.

Akamatsu doesn’t laugh at her, only leans on the railing beside her and calls out to the fish, encouragingly, “You’re doing so well! Keep swimming! Just keep swimming to your little fishy hearts’ content!”

“Don’t talk to the fish,” Harukawa says. “That’s weird.”

“You’re weird,” Akamatsu replies. “You think these fish ever got cheered on before? Maybe I just made their day.”

“Stop being ridiculous.”

“You love me anyway,” Akamatsu laughs this time and it’s so infuriatingly confident and true that Harukawa is torn between throwing back a scathing remark and kissing her senseless.

It’s hardly a competition.

“Oh,” Akamatsu says as Harukawa grabs her by the shoulders, “What’s up? You wanna throw down over these fish? I’ll—”

Harukawa presses onto her tiptoes and pulls Akamatsu into a kiss.

“Thank you for thinking of me. For everything,” she says softly as they part. Akamatsu’s hair tickles her cheek and she smiles involuntarily. Her girlfriend beams right back.

“Always.” Akamatsu says, wrapping her arms around her waist. Then, far too dramatically, “Like a lake shore, my love encompasses you.”

“So I’m a lake, am I?”

“Only the prettiest lake I’ve ever seen. Your hair is the color of the silkiest lake sludge, and I can see all the cute ducks swimming in your eyes.”

Harukawa laughs. “Oh, shove it, master of romance.”

Holding onto each other like that, they breathe, taking in the freshness of the air as the sun shines high above. In the bright afternoon, the lake water glistens, and Harukawa does not think about death anymore.

Instead, she leans in to kiss Akamatsu again, and it’s returned swiftly before they part and the world moves on around them.

They are alive.

 

 


End file.
